


Arsenic and Old Jokes

by BuddyLove



Category: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), Martin and Lewis, Scared Stiff (1953)
Genre: Because with Jonathan Brewster you never know, M/M, Not sure of what might happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyLove/pseuds/BuddyLove
Summary: This is a 'Scared Stiff' crossover with 'Arsenic and Old Lace'It is set in October of 1946, about a year after the events of Arsenic and Old Lace and Scared Stiff.





	Arsenic and Old Jokes

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to everyone who has been so supportive and patient with my writing thus far.  
> You are all awesome and I could not have made it this far without you :)

   
October 13 1946                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Brooklyn, New York                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The home of Mortimer Brewster.

                                                                                                                  

Mortimer is not sure why he still rents out the rooms in the old house.                                                                                                                                                                 

With most of his family now locked away in Happy Dale, 

and Elaine having passed away only a few short months after their marriage, he has been feeling rather lonely.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

He only recently decided to take in tenants.      

He does not need the money, but he is in desperate need of the company.                                                    

He has started to hit the bottle a little harder than he should.                                                                   

And that is not even what has him really worried.                                                                                                    

If he is not a Brewster, than what is wrong with him?                                                                                        

Being a Brewster was his excuse for why he let Jonathan do the things he did.                          

He was family, or at least that was what he had believed at the time.                                                                       

Jonathan was his older brother, which meant that they weren't even half-brothers, 

since Mortimer’s mother had been pregnant with him when she married Jonathan’s father.                                                   

 

The really insane thought was that he had been so hell bent on getting rid of Teddy, when Teddy was the only real family he had left.                                                                                                   

He supposed the truth was that for now he was just killing time until the inevitable happened. Since Jonathan had escaped from police custody,                                

Mortimer had been waiting for the confrontation that he knew Jonathan would seek.

That idiot, O'Harra, had spread the rumor about there being bodies in the basement like wild fire.                                                                   

Everyone thought he belonged in Happy Dale along with the rest of his family.                                                 

The worst part was suspecting that they just might be right.                                                

He was contemplating downing a glass of Aunt Abby's elderberry wine when there was a  knock on the door.

 

"Gee, I hope this guy still has a room to rent." Myron said as Larry knocked on the door.             

They had only just arrived in Brooklyn and they needed a place to stay until they could find work. For Larry that was easy.

He was handsome and could sing beautifully.                          

Myron, on the other hand... Well, at least Larry had not given up on him.                                               

"Me too, pally." Larry says wearily.                                                           

 It was getting late and they were both too exhausted to go any further.                            

Mortimer answered the door.

 

"How can I help you?" he asked the two men.                                          

"We saw your add in the paper, and were wondering if you still had any rooms to rent." Larry asked hopefully.                                                                      

"Yeah, I do. Please come in." Mortimer replies, letting Larry and Myron in.

"Nice place you got here, Mr. Brewster." Myron says in his squeaky voice, trying to be polite.                                          

"Thank you. It belonged to my aunts. What did you say your names are?"                    

"I am Larry Todd and this here is my best friend..."                                                                                               

"Myron! Myron Mertz." the kid says enthusiastically.                                       

"Pleasure to meet you both. The rooms are upstairs, if you’re interested."                         

"We can only afford the one room, for now. Is that okay?" Larry asked.                             

"That'll be fine. I don't rent rooms for the money. I do it in memory of my aunts. They used to rent rooms out to people who needed them."                                                 

Mortimer hated to mention Abby and Martha.                                                 

Even if he wasn’t a Brewster, he had been raised by them.                                           

They had left their dirty, sticky, bloody finger prints all over his mind and body.              

He should have left the house, like he and Elaine had planned. But it didn’t matter now.           

Elaine was gone and the only people he had ever called family were insane.

 

"Oh. yeah? That’s mighty fine of you. How long ago did they pass away?" Larry asks.              

Mortimer's cringed.                                                                      

"They didn't pass away. They were committed to Happy Dale Sanitarium." Mortimer confesses.                                                                 

"Ah...did you say 'sanitarium'? As in for crazy people?" Myron asks.                          

"Myron! That's no way to talk to Mr. Brewster. I am sorry, Mr. Brewster. The kid just gets carried away, is all."                                                        

"Please call me Mortimer. It’s fine. They had themselves committed so that they could be with their nephew, my younger brother, Teddy.                                                         

‘He thinks he is Teddy Roosevelt, so we had him committed."                                          

"I am sorry to hear that, pally. That must have been hard on the family. "                     

"Not really. I rarely saw them, and the only other family is my brother, Jonathan, and he is...well,

‘let’s just say if he ever shows up here you call the police, got it?"                                 

"Why? What did he do?" Myron asks.                                                                                                                 

 

Normally Mortimer would feel uncomfortable answering that question.                                             

But if they are going to be living here, they need to know.                                                  

"He is wanted for murder. They arrested him for braking out of the Illinois Institution for the criminally insane. He looks like Boris Karloff.

'Listen I am not kidding if he show up here you call the cops. He's tried to kill me and I am his own brother."                                     

"Did you say he looked like Boris Karloff?" Myron asks.                              

"That’s right." Mortimer replied.

"Well...what if Boris Karloff comes to the house? Then what are we gonna do?" Myron asked.

"Myron! Stop being so silly! Can't you see how serious Mr. Brewster, I mean Mortimer is?"             

"I am sorry Mr. Brewster. I didn't mean nothin' by it. It's just I act kinda silly when I am nervous."

"Don't worry about it, kid. My advice to you is this. Karloff or not, if he comes to the door, you call the cops, alright?"                                                                     

"We will, won’t we Myron?" Larry says.                                                     

“You bettcha! If I see I guy who looks like that I’ll call the police, the Army, the Navy and the United States Marines!” Myron replies.

Larry shook his head.                                  

“Your hopeless, you know that, don’t you?” Larry asks, jokingly.                                 

 

Mortimer could not help feeling a little jealous of the pair.                              

It was clear that they cared deeply for each other.                                           

Like brothers…                                                                               

Or lovers.                                                                           

Why couldn’t Jonathan have treated him like that?                                            

Why couldn’t he have been kind and loving to Mortimer when they were only a year apart in age?

Mortimer had tried so many times to engage in what Jonathan was doing, even when it was things that made him feel weird and frightened him.                                           

Like killing the neighbor’s dog, just because it had bit Teddy when he tried to pet it.         

 

“That’s why I only like bears.” Teddy, who was only four at the time, had said.              

“Teddy would never bite no body, would ya, Teddy?”                                        

Jonathan had smiled at his little brother. Mortimer had shivered.                        

He was too weak to escape the grip of his older brother.                                       

In the end it had been Jonathan who had left him, not the other way around.                   

Breaking their bond, and freeing Mortimer only to doom him to a life of bland normality.                                               

 

"Well, now that is settled let me show you to your room."  Mortimer said, leading Larry and Myron upstairs.                                              

"I hope you'll be comfortable in here. It used to belong to my brother Teddy." Mortimer says, showing them the room.                                                                    

"Its real nice." Larry says with a smile.                                                          

 "Don't worry about the rent until you get work, I don't need the money.                                                               

'Its what my aunts would have wanted." Mortimer cringes a little.                                            

"That’s very kind of you, Mr. Brewster." Myron says.                                                                                 

"It gets rather lonely living here alone, kid." Mortimer says, turning away.                                         

"Let me know if you need anything else.                                                                                          

'Dinner will be at seven. Tonight its chicken and potatoes. I do all the cooking, unless either of you want to give it a shot." Mortimer said.                             

"You don't mind us having dinner with you?" Larry asks.                                        

“Not at all." Mortimer replies.                                                             

 

Myron was quick to note how sullen Mortimer looked.                                                               

It was in his nature to make people laugh as best he could. And he was the best at it.                                                                  

He could always make his buddy, Larry, laugh when he was down.                            

They waited for Mortimer to leave before discussing their situation further.

 

"Poor fella. I wish there was somethin' we could do to cheer him up." Larry said.                      

"Me too." Myron replied, setting down his suitcase.                                                                     

"You believe him about that brother of his? The one that looks like Karloff?" Myron asks.

"Honestly right now I don't know what to believe. I'll tell you what I do know, kid.                         

‘I know we need to find work here as soon as possible. I'll check the wanted adds tomorrow.   

‘Once I've got some leads I'll see if I can get them to hire you on too, pally."                     

"What should I do in the meantime?"                                                                                     

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe try and help Mortimer with the cooking and cleaning.                        

‘Just try not to cause any trouble while we are here."                                                                                  

"Okay. I can do that." Myron says, flopping down on the bed.                                                    

 Then another problem occurs to him.

 "Um, Larry..."                                                                                                              

"Yes, Myron?"                                                                                                                                         

"Feel free to correct me if I am wrong, but...is it just me or is there only one bed in here?"               

Larry looks about the room. "No, kid, you’re not wrong. There's only one bed."                   

"Grate. I guess that means I'll be sleeping on the floor.."                                                                      

"Why's that?"                                                                                                                                            

"Well, you don't want to sleep on the floor, so I figured..."                                                         

"Don't be silly, kid. We'll just share the bed. I ain't gonna let you sleep on the floor like dog." Myron smiles.

Larry really is the best friend any guy could ever want.                                   

They've known each other since they were kids and Larry has always taken care of Myron.           

Even when he got beaten up by the other boys, Larry had come to his rescue.                          

He has always been a scrawny kid. Jerky was the word they used to use for guys like him.           

Even now, at the age of 21, he only weighs about 118 lbs. And he's six feet tall.                          

He has not gotten beat up since he was fifteen.                                                                                    

Larry had beaten the snot out of that fella.                                                                                            

 

"I am gonna' take a quick shower before dinner. I'll be right out."                                             

Myron says, heading off towards the bathroom.                                                                        

"Alright, I may take one after you, so don't use up all the hot water, alright, kid?"                   

"You got it, buddy." Myron replies. Larry smiles.                                                                                  

He worries about Myron more than he lets on. The kid is scrawny alright.                          

But he is also kind of naive. Not dumb, no, but too trusting.                                        

The kid had raised a good point earlier.                                                                                                  

What did he think about what that Mortimer fella told them about his brother?                

The guy supposedly looked like Karloff. It worried him.                                                      

He likes this guy, Mortimer, and he did not want to see him end up in the obituaries on account of some lunatic, even if it was his own brother.

And he worried about Myron. What would he do if confronted by this character?                                                                  

Myron was a nice kid with a good heart, but he liked to be silly and kid around.                          

He would most likely laugh at the guy and say he looked like Frankenstein’s monster.               

He had no gauge when it came to danger. He just didn't know when to stop.

Larry remembered the day he had met Myron.                                                    

 

They were in the fourth grade and Larry had been sneaking a smoke out in the back lot behind the school, just north of the playground.

He had heard raised voices and then someone yelling.                             

"No! Don't! Help! Someone help me, please!" He had come running.                                        

The Marx boys had the kid trapped in the metal spiral part of the jungle gym.                

They were kicking at him and trying to grab him by the hair.                                            

They took off running when they saw Larry coming.                                                                      

Myron had sustained a black eye, a bloody nose and a slight concussion.                                

Along with more bruises than he cared to find out.                                                                         

Myron had been in really bad shape in more ways than one.                                                             

It had not just injured his body; it had done damage to his psyche too.                                     

The kid had been curled up in a ball sobbing when Larry had finally reached him.                  

Apparently he was used to being beaten, but this time it had gone too far.                                     

His nose was bleeding pretty badly and he would not come out, even after Larry had told him that the bullies had left.                                                   

 Left with no other choice, Larry had reached down and pulled Myron up.                    

 It was not easy, but the alternative was not an option.                                              

Leave the kid there to go get help and two things were likely to happen.                        

The Marx brothers might come back, but even if they didn't the kid would be humiliated.            

If not for crying in front of an adult or called a sissy or any number of other unpleasant thing Larry could imagine.

No, it was better to get the kid out himself and try to deal with things afterwards.

 

Myron did not fight him at all. Larry carried him to where he had been smoking before and set him down under the shade of an oak tree.  

It was a nice quiet secluded spot where Larry liked to come during recess and after school let out and he had to head home.                                                                  

He could hear the sound of the rushing river nearby.                                                                   

"You okay, kid?" Larry had asked him.                                                                                         

Myron was still crying, but the sobbing had stopped.                                                           

He looked up at Larry with questioning eyes.                                                                               

 "Who are you? Why did you save me?" Myron asked.                                                                        "

My name's Larry Todd, Pally. And I saved you cus' you were in trouble.                                 

‘I take it you aren't used to that, are you?"                                                                                                                              

"No, I ain't. My name is Myron, by the way. Myron Mertz."

"Nice to meet you, Myron. Wish we could have met under better circumstances, though."               

"Me too." Myron said.                                                                                                             

"You gonna' be okay?" Larry asked.                                                                                         

Myron considered. He tried to stand up and immediately fell back down.                        

Thankfully Larry caught him before he hit the ground.                                                           

"I guess that's a no. Why don't we get you to the hospital?                                            

‘You might have a concussion or something."                                                                          

"No! Please! Anything but that! I hate doctors!" Myron cried.

"Hey hey! It's okay, pally. No doctors. I promise.                                                               

‘Unless you pass out on me than I am gonna have to. Fair enough?"                             

"Yeah, I appreciate it, Larry."                                                              

"You don't have many friends, do you, Myron?" Larry had asked.                                 

"No.” Myron replied.                                                                      

”I don't have any friends."                                                                         

Larry considered this.                                                                                 

He didn’t have that many friends either, though for entirely different reasons.                          

“Well, now you do, kid. I’ll be your friend.” Larry replied.                                 

Myron seemed to brighten up at that.

 

 

That was many years ago.                                                                    

Now they were the best of friends despite the fact that sometimes Myron’s silly antics got them into trouble.

Larry had gotten pretty good at getting them out again.                                  

After all, what were friends for?

 

 

Myron stepped out of the shower about ten minutes later.                                           

Larry had been passing the time for the most part reading Batman issue #37 and thinking of how much Robin reminded him of Myron.                                                   

There was just something about the kid that made Larry think of the Boy Wonder.               

Maybe it was his youthful naivety or the way he seemed to naturally blunder into danger without so much as second thought.

“You look like a stalk of steamed asparagus, kid.” Larry commented as Myron toweled off his hair.

Myron laughed a little as he walked over to his bag to find a pair of pajamas.                             

He was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist like a makeshift toga.                                

Myron was a lot skinnier than Larry, who was more muscular, despite the fact that he was only five months older than Myron.

 

Larry got up and headed for the bathroom, wanting to get a shower in himself.                    

Myron was about to change his cloths when he noticed Larry giving him an odd look.                        

“What is it? Somethen’ wrong?” Myron asked his friend. Larry shook his head.                  

“Not a thing, pally. Just glad we’ve made it this far.” Larry replied with a smile.                             

He wished he could be able to tell his buddy how he really felt for him.                       

But he was afraid that if he did, Myron would hate him for it.                                      

No, it was better to let things be the way they were.

“Me too.” Myron said with a smile, and he turned his attention to the pair of Buck Rodgers pajamas he had picked out.

They weren’t originally made for a nineteen year old, but Myron was so skinny that they fit fine just the same.

He really was just a kid at heart.                                                    

 

He isn’t a fool though, just a bit naive, but even he has his limits.                                             

There is a part of him that knows something is up with Larry.                                                     

Ever since that situation with Shorty and the island, Larry had steered clear of woman.                              

Myron had figured it was just one of those things.                                            

Like maybe his heart was still broken from losing Mary.                                             

But that would not explain the looks he had been giving Myron, now would it?   

Myron flopped down on the bed and picked up the comic book Larry had left behind.                    

He didn’t know what had gotten into Larry, but whatever it was he hoped it was a good thing.  

For both their sake's.


End file.
